Heir to the throne
by cassiemortmain
Summary: New chapter - The royal party travels to Caernavon Castle for the investiture of the new heir as Prince of Wales, and the Queen hopes to find a chance to sneak away and meet up with Tom Branson while she is there - rated M. Thank you angiemagz for my new coverart!
1. Chapter 1

"Your Majesty - the rebel Tom Branson is sweeping towards Liverpool. More and more people are attracted to his cause. What shall we do?"

Edward, known as Longshanks, smiled grimly at his son - "The time has come to strike against this Irish rabble-rouser - he has been a thorn in my side for too long. Send a troop of assassins to get rid of him once and for all - once he is gone, his rebellion will fail."

The Prince of Wales looked uncertain - "But Father, he is famous for his ability to smell out an ambush." The King spoke impatiently - "Then we will send your wife to negotiate with him. Let her think she is on a mission of peace, and we can use her to bait the trap."

Neither of them saw a lady's maid in the shadows…

The journey north was long and arduous through the winter rain, and Lady Sybil, Princess of Wales, had been close to exhaustion when she arrived at the encampment the night before the parley. Now, however, as she waited at the edge of the wood, looking towards the small hut where she was to meet the Irishman, she felt exhilarated anticipating what would happen next. She remembered the first time they had met a few years before, when she had negotiated the lifting of the siege at Chester, and how he had made her feel then - would it be the same this time?

She saw a party of rebels approaching from the other side of the clearing - half a dozen men, dressed for travel and with a wary look about them born of years on the run. They approached the hut silently and fanned out to encircle it. Then, at the word of command from their leader, they barred the door of the hut and pulled out pitch-soaked brands, which they lit and threw onto the thatched roof. Flames rose up and screams filled the air as a ghastly smell drifted towards Sybil. She realised what had happened - her word of warning had turned an ambush into a bloodbath of her husband's men, but she wasn't sorry.

Later that evening, Tom Branson rode towards an isolated house, and cautiously came inside to find he was alone with the Princess of Wales. She was staring into the fire and did not notice him until he made himself known - "My lady?"

Sybil was startled out of her reverie and jumped to her feet. He was even more handsome than she had remembered. His strong shoulders and arms were defined by the simple leather surcoat he wore, and his blue eyes stared into hers in a way she remembered so well - a way no man had ever looked at her before, especially not her husband.

"Why did you help me? Why did you warn me about the ambush?"

Sybil could not meet his gaze - Tom saw her long lashes sweeping across her blushing cheeks and thought he had never seen a woman look so beautiful. Then, she raised her eyes to him, liquid in the dim light - "Because of the way you are looking at me now."

Tom could not resist her mute appeal any longer. He stepped closer and slowly put his arm around her waist, giving her time to move away if she wanted to. With infinite care, he put his hand to her cheek, stroking his thumb gently across her bottom lip. He heard her sharp intake of breath and bridged the small space still left between them, bringing his lips down to hers for a kiss.

All Sybil knew was that she needed to be closer to him, and her arms came up around his neck without any conscious thought. She felt his tongue pushing against her lips and closed her eyes as she gave him what he was asking for. Her head was swimming as she felt him pick her up and her long braid swept the floor as he carried her over to the low bed by the fire.

His hands were on her, unlacing her gown at the neck and gently pulling it away from her shoulders to reveal her breasts, which were rising and falling in time with her breath. His lips moved down her throat to her collarbone, and as they reached her rosy nipple she let out a moan. Tom felt Sybil straining towards him, lifting herself up off the bed to get closer to him, and he found the combination of her beauty and her ardour completely intoxicating. As he pulled his shirt over his head, he felt her hands running down his chest in a way that made him shiver with desire.

The feeling of skin on skin was electric. Sybil didn't know what would come next - her marriage had included a few perfunctory couplings undertaken purely from a sense of duty, but apart from that she had no idea how things could be between a man and a woman. Somehow, she knew that whatever happened, she could trust this man to whom she knew she wanted to give all of herself. Breathlessly, she waited as his mouth travelled further down her body. Her hands tangled in his rough hair as she felt his lips on her stomach and his hand trailing up the inside of her leg, under her heavy skirt.

Tom looked up along her body, noticing the way the tongues of firelight dancing on her creamy skin made it glow. He saw her face - totally unselfconscious before him, her eyes were closed and her swollen lips were slightly parted. He could hear her letting out short gasps as his hand travelled ever closer to her centre and, once he touched her there for the first time, her eyes opened in amazement. As his fingers began to stroke and tease her, she felt sensations she had never imagined and found herself grinding against his hand, striving for more, always more as he murmured to her about how good she felt to him. She was powerless to resist the tidal wave that suddenly broke over her, flooding her body with showers of sparks and tremblings that travelled outwards to the crown of her head and the tips of her toes. While she knew she had never experienced this before, she also knew she was fulfilling a long held dream that had sustained her in secret since they first met.

She looked down into his eyes in wonderment - "What did you just do to me?" Tom smiled as he moved himself up and over her and rested on his elbows for a moment. Sybil felt his erect shaft against her thigh, then found herself screaming his name as he thrust himself straight and true into her core, like an arrow loosed from a bow. Once they were fully joined, neither was inclined to take their time and their pace quickly increased. He felt her legs wrapping around his body, driving him more deeply into her with every stroke. He slid his hand between them, continuing his earlier caresses and bringing her to the brink again until he could not hold back any longer. As he felt the force of her second release from the inside this time, he threw his head back and groaned. Then he let himself go completely, more than he had allowed himself to do for many years.

They lay for a moment, feeling their breath return to normal. He felt her hands pulling him up to meet her, and they both savoured the afterglow as they came together as equals in a long, loving kiss...

A few weeks later, King Edward had a stroke and summoned his daughter in law to his presence for the last time. Sybil strode unafraid into the royal bedchamber - she had a message for the dying king and she couldn't wait to deliver it. Leaning down to his ear, she whispered -

"You see, death comes to us all. But before it comes to you, know this. Your blood dies with you. A child who is not of your line grows in my belly. Your son will not sit long on the throne, I swear it."

The ruthless King's eyes opened wide in panic, but he couldn't speak. His life's purpose was destroyed, as he realised that his line would be usurped by the seed of an Irish rebel.

* * *

_A/N_

As you can see, I've used a very well known scene and a couple of lines from a movie as a starting point for my very first S/T sexytimes fic. Thank you so much to everyone in the awesome S/T fandom on Tumblr who encouraged me to publish this. :)


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note_

Thank you to everyone who read/reviewed/favourited my original one-shot story. Since some of you asked, the movie from which I got the original idea for this story was _Braveheart_.

There were a few people who suggested to me I should consider making my original one-shot multi-chapter, and I was thinking about it when on my Tumblr dashboard appeared a post with a story from the wonderful and talented Yankee Countess, which opened like this:

_"Borrowing ideas here from the most recent episode of "Game of Thrones" and piggy-backing off cassiemortmain's "Heir to the Throne" story…"_

and which was accompanied by some wonderful artwork by the equally talented piperholmes.

I was inspired! Yankee Countess gave me permission to use her post as part of chapter 2 of my story (the middle part of this chapter, between the divides), and piperholmes also gave permission for me to use her S/T Labyrinth picture when launching the chapter on Tumblr. Ladies, thank you both so much for your support and your inspiration - I hope I did you justice!

This chapter fits between when Tom and Sybil parted towards the end of the last chapter, and the day a few weeks later when she revealed her secret to the King...

* * *

"Gwen, I have a confidential commission for you."

"Yes, your Highness?"

"I need you to get a message to Tom Branson, encamped near the city of Leicester."

"Of course, your Highness. I will send a man tonight." Sybil silently handed her lady's maid a sealed packet…

Since their night together, Sybil could not stop thinking about the dashing Irish rebel, reliving their lovemaking over and over in her mind. A couple of weeks after her return from the north, the King got ready to take his regular hunting trip near Oxford, and he insisted the whole court, including the Prince and Princess of Wales, came with him to Beaumont Palace. From there, the King, his son and a select party of courtiers would head to the royal hunting lodge at Woodstock. When Sybil heard they would be away for the night, leaving her alone, she knew this was her chance…

That night, she paced impatiently up and down, until she heard a double knock at the secret door to her chamber. When she opened it, she saw Gwen, cloaked and hooded, and a man in the shadows behind her. "My lady, lock the door behind me and do not let anyone in until I come back in the morning."

Sybil nodded - the man moved into the light, and she saw the glint of the blue eyes that had haunted her dreams of late. As Gwen hurried back down the stairs, Sybil moved to let him in, closing and locking the door.

Tom said nothing - he just stood looking at her. His burning gaze made her blush, but she didn't falter, meeting his gaze with her own, just as ardent. He stepped forward and, still without speaking, swept her into his arms. Sybil reached up and clasped her hands around his neck as she moved backwards towards the canopied bed, taking him with her as she fell. His kisses rained down on her face and neck, and her eyes closed as the ecstasy she remembered flowed over her like a river, with the same unstoppable force...

* * *

He stirred at the feel of her lips on his shoulder. He didn't move, he just smiled into the pillow as their soft smoothness lingered against his skin. They trailed up then further, kissing his brow, his temple, his ear…

When she reached his earlobe and gave it a little bite, he couldn't lay still any longer, and quickly turned over, causing her to gasp and grin as he rolled his body easily atop hers, pinning her down upon the bed.

"Good morning…" he couldn't help but growl, smiling down at her, so happy that this hadn't been a dream, that his princess was still there. His princess. Yes, that was how he would always see her; his beautiful English princess who for some blessed reason, had chosen to give herself—heart and body—to a commoner like himself.

She was blushing deeply, and he could tell there was something on her mind. "What?" he asked, his nose lightly rubbing against hers, his lips eager to taste hers again.

She nibbled on her bottom lip and looked up at him, a curious (and mischievous) light in her eyes.

She opened her mouth to speak, then quickly closed it, looking far too embarrassed.

"What?" he asked, grinning and letting his hands move down her body, ready to tickle her beneath the blanket that covered them. "Come on…tell me…"

"Why?" she countered, trying to look haughty. "I am the princess here, shouldn't I be giving the orders?"

He growled and began to nuzzle her neck, causing her to tremble. "I thought you enjoyed being 'taken' by a rebel?" - he kissed the flesh at her neck, his teeth lightly grazing the skin, causing her to shiver.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell…" she gasped, moaning at the sensations his mouth was causing her body. She blushed as he lifted his head, grinning and waiting for her response. She closed her eyes, summoning her courage, before finally asking. "That thing you did, with your mouth…" she began.

His eyes widened and his body stiffened (in several places) as he soon realized what she was talking about. "Is…is that what rebel lords do to their ladies in Ireland?"

He couldn't help but chuckle, his hand moving up to run his fingers across her cheek. "I wouldn't say it's unique to just Ireland," he grinned. "But I do know that I wanted to kiss you there…" he let his lips glide across the skin of her cheek. "…And my princess did seem to like it…"

She blushed and nodded. "I liked it some," she purred, rather cheekily, knowing it would get a bit of a rise out of him.

"Only some?" he asked, cocking a brow and looking somewhat affronted by her words.

She bit her lip to contain her giggles. "Who taught you?"

He gave her sides a little pinch, causing her to jump slightly and press her body even more deliciously against his own. "No one 'taught' me, princess…and I must admit, I'm a little hurt to hear that you only liked it 'some'," he gave a mock-weary sigh. "I suppose I'll have to keep trying until you like it 'all'."

He disappeared then beneath the sheets. And she gasped just as she had the other night…many, many times...

* * *

As Sybil slowly came back to herself, she saw her lover by her side, leaning his head on one hand and smiling at her. "So, princess, is it fair to say you like it 'all' now?" She couldn't help but smile in return - after the cries that had escaped her, there was no way even to pretend to hide the pleasure he had given her. She pulled his face to hers for a deep kiss and, as he relaxed into her arms, she took him by surprise as she playfully pushed him onto his back and rolled on top of him.

He quirked an eyebrow at her - "So how's the view from there, your Highness -" but his remark was cut short when he felt her hand slip between their bodies, brushing over his taut stomach to touch his erect shaft. He let out an "oh!" of surprise as he felt her hand sliding down, caressing him along his whole length until he was straining against her.

She felt his arousal and a wicked smile crossed her face as, for the first time, she felt herself in control of what was happening between them. Taking her time, and enjoying the feel of his eyes drinking in every inch of her body, she lifted herself until she was almost upright, moving until she felt the tip of him align with her core. Then, without a moment of hesitation, and with her eyes locked on his, she sat up and enveloped him completely within her.

The mood between them quickly switched from play to passion, and Tom's hands came up to grasp her hips as she started to move up and down, slowly at first, then gradually getting faster. He thought this was his favourite position so far with her - the sight of her round, firm breasts rising and falling to the rhythm of their loving sent him quickly almost to the edge, and he had to slow her down a little so that he did not lose control completely.

As their tempo increased, she began to pant - "Tom, please..." - and he knew what she was asking for. His hand slid down towards her warm, wet centre and his fingers began to tease her in a way he had already learnt drove her wild. Her long black hair tossed as she threw her head back and ground her hips into his. Tom murmured to her - "Come on, my darling, come for me" - and at his words she shuddered and came completely undone, her whole body tightening around him and sending him over the precipice with her.

She flopped down onto him, their bodies still joined, and the sweat on their skins cooled as their breaths returned slowly to normal. He tightened his arms around her and realised that this woman, this Princess of Wales, moved him in a way he had never expected to be moved. Somehow, he had to find a way for them to be together again like this. He didn't know how or where, but he knew it had to happen...

* * *

_A/N - _I'm planning at least one more chapter for this - there's a S/T sexytimes idea I have been wanting to try which fits well into this story I think..._  
_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note_

Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favourited/followed this story - I love to hear from you!

This chapter falls after the death of the King, Sybil's father in law, and it will be a two part chapter...

* * *

Sybil and Gwen were tiring as they neared the end of a long day of travel. King Edward and his Queen, after their coronation, had embarked on a grand tour of Scotland. Since the death of the last King, their realm had been unsettled and the new King wanted to stamp his authority on his people and prove he was just as strong a ruler as his father.

"Why won't they let me ride, Gwen – I have been doing it since I was a child and it's so much less exhausting than sitting in this little box all day?" "Your Majesty, it's tradition for the Queen to ride in a litter – it's always been done that way." Sybil grimaced and then composed herself, putting a regal smile on her face to meet the world outside. She pushed her way through the curtains of the litter, giving her hand to Sir Reginald Clare, the trusted steward of her household, and stepped down onto the ground, feeling better as the late afternoon sunshine hit her face.

At that moment, riders raced up to the King's tent, and were quickly announced – "Your Majesty, we have had word of rebel forces moving quickly up from behind your baggage train." Piers Mandeville, her husband's closest companion (indeed, some whispered of an unseemly relationship between them) frowned – "In that case, your Majesty, I'd advise you to divert the Queen and her ladies towards Oban, in case of an attack. That way, we will be ready for battle." Edward nodded – "Yes, I agree. For her safety, have her Majesty ready to depart before nightfall."

Sybil was excited and nervous when she heard the news. Although she was a long way north, she couldn't help wondering who the rebels were. She had heard of the brotherhood of the Celts and how the Scots and Irish were united in their hatred of Longshanks and his son – was it possible that the rebels coming towards them might count her lover Tom Branson amongst their number? She quickly gave the necessary orders and was ready within twenty minutes to divert from the main group and ride north west. They would head for Dunstaffnage Castle, the safest option for many miles. The castle was now held by Robert the Bruce and he, at least for the moment, was keeping to the terms of his uneasy truce with King Edward.

Sybil and her retainers headed out from the royal camp and soon found themselves riding in single file onto the trackless moors. Sybil was riding side saddle in front of a burly yeoman assigned to protect her, and as she looked around her at the wild, beautiful country they were travelling through, something in it stirred her blood and made her feel more alive than anything else she had seen so far in this land. She almost held her breath, as if she were waiting for something to happen... then, the whole party heard the sound of hoof beats approaching across the peaty ground.

"Halt – who goes there?" The accent sounded so strange in this landscape of the Scots, and yet so familiar to Sybil – surely, it must be Tom Branson whose path they had crossed! She looked shrewdly at Duncan, the young man guiding them – although Edward had paid him well for his services, it seemed as if loyalty had won out over gold, and that they had been brought straight to the rebels they were trying to escape. She held herself up haughtily – whatever she may feel for Tom Branson in private, in public she must appear to be nothing but a queen, outraged at this treatment.

"Do you dare to stop us, churl? It is your Queen whom you insult so grievously." Tom's head whipped around at the sound of her voice, and their eyes met and locked as he rode over to her, his fair, tousled hair picked out by the rays of the setting sun behind him. "Pardon, my lady, no insult was intended. These are restless times."

Sybil only half heard what he was saying – oh, the joy of seeing him again! Her face was flushed with a high colour that could be explained away with anger if anyone asked – only Tom knew its source was desire, desire for him. She dragged her eyes away from his intense gaze and looked down as he said – "I think our party will take custody of the Queen. Tell the Sassenach Edward that we have her and will keep her safe until we can find a way to return her to her home. We would not want to risk her encountering worse treatment on these dangerous paths. There are wild men abroad."

It was only the work of a moment for Sybil to move from her own horse to Tom's and to feel his hard, muscular body pressing up against her back as he pulled her close. She began breathing unevenly from excitement, her breasts rising and falling quickly in a way she could not hide from him, this man who already knew her body so well. He spurred his mount onwards and, before she knew what was happening, they had crossed the little ridge ahead and were riding alone into the lonely glen beyond.

* * *

As soon as he was confident that they were out of sight, Tom pulled on the reins and brought the horse to a stop. Without speaking, he put his hand gently under Sybil's chin and turned her face towards him. Their eyes met and she let out a sigh of delight, which led him to lean closer and put his lips to hers.

There was almost total silence around them as Sybil closed her eyes and reached up to put her hand on the back of Tom's neck and deepen their kiss. As his tongue teased at her lips, she felt she could almost burst, as if her heart could not hold so much happiness. She pulled away for a moment and turned fully towards him in the saddle, burying her face in his neck - "Tom, Tom... take me away from here, please...". She could not put into words what she was asking for, but Tom knew what was in her heart. He had had the same thoughts as often as she had during the weeks since their last meeting, and when he had heard about the Highland progress of the King and Queen he had worked hard on putting together a plan to bring about this long desired reunion.

Tom's arms tightened around her again and the horse galloped for several miles towards an open fire near the shore of a deserted sea loch than ran through the heart of the glen, where they stopped. He lifted her off the horse and carried her over to the fire where he gently laid her down, throwing his rough plaid on the ground first to protect her. It was a clear, sparkling evening and the stars were starting to come out in the northern sky above them as Tom leaned over Sybil and she looked into his blue eyes again. Although no words of love or longing had yet been spoken openly between them, Sybil could read his feelings like a book in his eyes, and she felt tears welling up into her own eyes as she pulled him down to her. Their lips met in a passionate kiss and this time his tongue came as if by right into her mouth, caressing her there as his hands slid across her body. The perfume of the glen, equal parts sea salt and gorse blossoms, enveloped the lovers like a protective veil, shielding them from the world.

When their kiss broke, Sybil sat up slightly in his arms, and reached to loosen the ties at the front of her gown. Shyly looking down, she gently pulled it from her own shoulders, revealing her satiny skin to Tom's eager eyes. She seemed to glow from within, putting the fire to shame, and he could not wait to touch her. His lips moved down her throat, following his fingers as they lifted her body free of the constraints of the heavy brocade she wore, and as she felt his lips on her breasts she could not help letting out a little gasp.

Tom lifted his head at that, a cheeky smile on his face. "My lady, you enjoy that? Do you want some more?" "More, more..." breathed Sybil and he didn't wait to fulfil her request. His mouth brushed over her nipples again and again until they were aching and Sybil was starting to moan at his touch. His lips moved down her body, leaving a trail of fiery kisses down her ribcage and towards her stomach, where he paused to look up at her. Her body, naked now in the starlight, was fully revealed to him. As his eyes travelled over every inch of her, he realised she was even more beautiful, even more wanton, here in the wildest landscape in her kingdom than she had ever been before. He felt a wave of desire push him on, as if he were caught in the whirlpool swirling in the nearby loch, and he knew he was lost, totally helpless before its power.

His mouth moved down still further to her core, and he could feel she was already warm and wet for him. "Her taste, so good... how I have dreamt of tasting her again..." was the only thought that crossed his mind as he began to tease her there with his lips and tongue. He could feel her hand, thrusting itself through his tangled hair to pull him ever closer into her, and he heard her letting out words he was sure her confessor would consider to be blasphemous - "Yes, there, oh my God, THERE! Don't stop, Tom!" He could feel the excitement building inside her as she slipped in first one finger, then a second. As his tongue continued to stroke and taunt her, a raging torrent started to flow through her body and she did not even try to resist its force. The Queen of England came completely undone again and again in that wilderness, as Tom's caresses pushed her beyond the circle of the ten thousand stars above them. Her body bucked uncontrollably and her hips rose up from the wild heather beneath them as she screamed his name, for none but the sleeping chicks of the sea eagles in their nest to hear...

* * *

_A/N -_

As mentioned, this is a two-parter - next bit to come soon!


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's note_

Thank you to everyone who read/reviewed/favourited/followed this story - I love to hear from you! This chapter is really part 2 of the previous one (as I mentioned) - no time has elapsed since then...

* * *

Tom moved up beside Sybil, leaning on one arm and gently running his other hand across her body to soothe her as he would a frightened doe, as she gradually came back to herself and opened her eyes. A smile crossed her lips – "I find myself at somewhat of a disadvantage here, already divested of all my garments while you are still fully dressed! I suggest you remedy that deficiency immediately, to avoid incurring my royal displeasure." Tom grinned and swiftly started pulling off his clothes, growling – "Oh really, your royal DISpleasure? Well we can't have that! Perhaps your Majesty could help me fulfil her command more quickly?"

As he sat up to tug his shirt over his head, Sybil bit her lip and started to undo the belt that was holding the rest of his plaid in place, allowing her hand to slip underneath it to grasp his shaft, which was already straining against the cloth. He let out a moan at her touch and lay back down beside her - "I hope you will allow me to return my attention to her Majesty's pleasure now?" Tom's eyes glowed with a light Sybil had never seen in them before as he looked down at her. Seeing him in this place, so similar to how she imagined his home in Ireland to be, he seemed to be truly the master of all he surveyed, completely free and at ease in the beauty that surrounded them, while at the same time totally focused on her and wanting to share his wild domain with her.

Sybil pulled him down to her and as they began to kiss again, he lifted himself fully on top of her. As their bodies came together, he began to move inside her, slowly at first, their eyes locked. Sybil's hands came around his body to grasp his firm arse, the one she had been dreaming about touching ever since she first saw him in a pair of tight breeches at Chester, years before, and she folded her legs across the backs of his to pull him more deeply into her. He murmured to her, calling her by her name for the first time, telling her how beautiful she was to him and how her body felt to him when he touched her...whispering to her of how he had dreamed of being with her again and how he could never have enough of her...

His pace gradually quickened, and he felt Sybil's thighs tighten around him as his thrusts intensified. He slid his hand down between their bodies, to find the core of her and give her once again what she had never experienced before except with him. This time, their delirium when it came was completely mutual. Tom threw his head back and from somewhere inside himself, from a place that he could barely recognise, came the howl of a wild beast. Hearing it sent Sybil over the edge of oblivion as well, and her cries of abandon mingled with his in the warm night air. As he collapsed on top of her, their lips met again in a kiss both of them wanted never to end...

* * *

The next morning, the music of a songbird woke Sybil just before daybreak. She stirred and stretched deliciously – she had never woken up in the open air before and it was more intoxicating than the mead she had drunk at her wedding. She got up carefully, pulling herself free of Tom's encircling arms, and looked at him – asleep, his slightly weathered countenance had the innocence of the boy he had once been, and she was reluctant to disturb his rest. She picked her way down to the shoreline of the loch, still naked, and looked around her.

Now, Sybil could see for the first time the full majesty of the panorama that surrounded them. The ring of green mountains enclosing the glen was sublime and terrible, the jagged peaks wreathed with clouds that hid the sources of the clear, cold streams tumbling from them. Closer by, the sea eagles swooped over the blue-grey water of the loch, calling to each other as they hunted for fish for their chicks, and a mother otter was teaching her two babies to swim, rolling and turning near the shoreline.

The play of the golden sunshine on the water was almost blinding in its intensity, and it drew her on as she stepped into the loch. The shock of the cold came up through her feet but she quickly got used to it. Pushing her way a little further out from shore, she stood in the water up to her waist and started to splash its salty freshness onto her face, humming an air she had heard her court troubadour sing.

Tom watched her, spellbound. Her absence from his arms had registered even in his dreams and he had woken up shortly after she had come down to the loch and followed her there, being careful to stay out of her eyeline behind a tree as his eyes devoured her. Her long, unbound hair trailed in the water behind her, free of the trappings of royalty that normally constrained it. She turned slightly towards him and raised her arms above her head, glorying in the feel of the sunlight on her skin, and he had to bite his lip to prevent himself from groaning out loud as her full breasts lifted slightly with them. Completely lacking in self consciousness, she was like a water nymph in the wine-dark sea, taking a moment to refresh herself after wreaking havoc on the lives of mortal men, and Tom felt himself surrender to her completely, forever, without her even asking.

He stepped out from behind the tree and walked quietly down to the shore – he tried not to splash too much as he made his way towards her, and Sybil was so absorbed in the wonders around her that he managed to take her totally by surprise. Tom's arms slipped around her waist from behind and he pulled her closer to him so she could feel his arousal already hard against her back. His hand slid down over her stomach and he was shocked to feel a hard, round bump there that he had not noticed the night before during their lovemaking, so small was it – he could only feel it now because she was standing up. He turned her towards him and saw her face had flushed a rosy red – "Sybil?" She could not speak – instead, she nodded and he saw a single tear escape her lashes and roll down her cheek. His emotions overwhelmed him at that moment – not only was he in love with the Queen of England, she was also carrying their child.

She put her finger to his lips – "Don't speak, Tom – just hold me." Her arms came up around his neck and he pulled her slender body towards him, sharing the moment only with a curious grey seal and the wheeling gulls in the sky far above them. He also felt a tear welling up in his own eye, although he tried not to let her see it as he began to kiss her again. There was a new urgency in their kisses now – desperately, they held onto each other, knowing that things had changed forever for them with this revelation. He lifted her fully off her feet and eased himself inside her as he began to caress her core, while his other hand held her firmly against him and the water of the loch gently lapped around them, holding them up.

Sybil's nerves were already tuned to fever pitch and as she wrapped her arms and legs around his body, raking her nails down his back, it only took a few moments for her to cry her ecstasy aloud to the western wind. Her head fell forwards against his shoulder as her body convulsed around him, and as it fell he could see her long hair trailing around both of them, lying on the waves of the loch like kelp, and her full lips, swollen from his kisses. Seeing her like that, so beautiful, so wild, like the land that surrounded them, was more than enough to bring him to his own release too.

He picked her up in his arms then and carried her, laying her down gently on the shore of the loch and pulling her head onto his chest as he held her close to him. She whispered, "Tom, my love, my darling love," as he traced the curves and planes of her body over and over with his hand, this body that was even more precious to him now. For once, he was uncertain about what to do for the best. While all his instincts screamed, "Carry her home to Ireland with you today, now!" he knew that if he did that the King's soldiers would comb the realm looking for her. When he eventually found them, her husband's vengeance would be unspeakable, not just on him but on Sybil and their child, and he could not take that risk yet. "Sybil, I adore you, I will take care of you both, my love, I promise..." He had a new imperative now – he had to find a way, some way, for them to be together as a family and still keep his beloved Queen and their baby safe ...

* * *

_A/N -_

Borrowed a famous phrase from Homer, of course! I have always wanted to use that in a piece of writing and this seemed the perfect opportunity. More to come... thank you as always, Yankee Countess, for your support and encouragement of this story and your inspiration for this interlude in the Highlands!


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's note_

Thank you as always to everyone who has read/reviewed/favourited/followed so far – I love to hear from you! I also really appreciated several of you reaching out to ask me when the next update was coming – so glad to know you are enjoying the story! I had some thinking to do to get the next part of the plot underway and inspiration has now hit post holidays, so here's the next chapter for you - a bit longer than usual. Special thanks to the wonderful angiemagz, who created the new cover art pic of Sybil for this story for me!

Warning – some readers may find this chapter distressing. Difficult times are ahead for our lovely couple, but as Tom himself says, "sometimes a hard sacrifice must be made for a future that's worth having" and I am definitely heading towards that future for them. Please let me know what you think!

* * *

"Gwen, could you bring me my wrap – I'm so cold." "Yes, your Majesty – winter is really in the air today, isn't it?"

Gwen hurried to get the Queen's marten fur cloak. Nearly five months had passed since Sybil's summer adventure in the Highlands had ended with Tom returning her to the castle of Robert the Bruce, who was secretly an ally both of the rebel cause and of the King, not an easy balance to strike. Since then, Sybil had been under the "loving protection" (meaning imprisonment) of her husband, King Edward – she had had to tell him about the baby as her pregnancy started to show, and since then he had been keeping a very close eye on the Queen who carried the heir to the throne. Fortunately for Sybil, the King did not even think to question the parenthood of the baby – to him, it was impossible to imagine any father other than himself.

Sybil and Tom had not been able to meet again since then. However, at risk to her own life, Gwen had acted as a secret courier whenever she could, the last link in a chain Tom had set up to allow for the passing of occasional messages between the lovers. She actually had received a letter that day, and as she settled the cloak around the Queen's shoulders, she dropped it unobtrusively into her lap.

Sybil had been staring into the fire, lost in a reverie that occupied most of her thoughts these days – remembering her times with her lover, and wondering how they could find a way to meet again. She did not dare think beyond their next meeting as she still could not imagine any way for her and Tom to be together with their baby as a family, no matter how desperately they both wanted it. When Sybil felt something drop onto her skirt, she looked down, and a rosy flush raced up her face.

Looking at Gwen with starry eyes, she asked – "Is this from...?" and Gwen nodded. Sybil lifted the travel stained letter to her lips and closed her eyes as she kissed it, a tear tricking down her cheek. She did not dare open it yet, as her husband was expected any moment – instead, she tucked it into the bodice of her gown, next to her heart. Sure enough, the heralds at the door announced the arrival of the King.

Somehow, Sybil mused, the pomp and circumstance of his arrival never really matched up to the reality of the man himself. Much as she had hated his father, she had to admit that with his height and regal bearing he had been every inch a king. His son could never quite live up to that in her eyes, being shorter than Sybil herself and rather slight in build. As always, the King was accompanied by a group of young, handsome courtiers, chief among them Piers Mandeville, a cruel man who exercised what Sybil believed to be undue influence over her husband. The King spoke to his Queen –

"How now, my lady – what news of my son today?" Sybil dropped her eyes, and playing the part of the dutiful wife she murmured – "He is strong and healthy, my lord, and growing well." Without realising it, as she spoke she dropped her hands to caress the curve of her belly, which showed proudly now under her mantle fashioned of dark sapphire velvet. Edward looked a bit uncertain as he looked at his wife. Remembering the relationship he had had with his own father – one of hate and fear – he wondered what kind of father he would be to his son when he arrived. "I am pleased to hear it. If there is anything you require to ensure his continued good health, send me a message and you will have it, if it is in my power."

Edward then advised her that he had made Piers the new Earl of Grantham, taking over the title from her own father who had died without a male heir, which made Sybil seethe inwardly - the history of her own family seemed to count for nothing when it came to the way Edward treated his favourites! However, nothing of these feelings showed on her face, as Sybil continued to demonstrate her mastery of deception as far as Edward was concerned - anything else was too risky with her baby to think about.

Once the King left her alone. Sybil nodded to Gwen, who ushered the rest of the ladies in waiting out behind Edward as the guards relocked the heavy doors of her chamber, leaving the Queen with only most trusted servant to watch over her during her afternoon rest. Then, and only then, Sybil pulled Tom's letter from her breast and opened it – it was only a few lines long, clearly written in haste –

"A chomthuigh,

Every day I think only of you and our child, and every night I dream of ways for us to be together again. I long for the moment when I can touch your sweet face, kiss your lips, run my hands through your hair, feel your beautiful body beneath me, be with you again as we were in the summer gone by.

Our band rides south towards Abergavenny Castle – the English lords have called for a parley with our Welsh allies and we will join them there. Is there any way for you to leave London and meet with us on the road to the Marches? The boy who brought this message can be trusted to give your answer to me."

Sybil read the note again and again until she knew it by heart, then passed it to Gwen wordlessly to put into the fire – she knew she would be risking her life and that of her child's by keeping it. Oh, if only there was a way for her to ride out to meet Tom! Although her pregnancy was well advanced now, she felt quite healthy, and to see him again would give her the strength she knew she would need to face this next stage of her life, an uncertain future as the mother of a child only she knew did not belong to her husband, but to her outlaw lover.

Sybil stared into the fire and started to daydream...

* * *

Waking with a start, Sybil stretched out and realised she was still lying in Tom's arms on the shore of the loch. The salty water had dried on their skins and she could taste it as she put her lips to his chest, moving up to his throat and gently biting his earlobe, which made him laugh and hold her tightly to him for a deep and loving kiss. As his arms came around her, she felt his tongue push past his lips and closed her eyes, purring in his arms like a tamed wildcat. After a while their kiss broke and Sybil knew she had to ask Tom what happened next - they could not stay here in their wilderness idyll for ever.

She looked at him - "Tom, my love - where do we go from here?" Tom answered her quickly as he had already thought about this when planning her kidnap - "I'll take you to the Bruce - he will make sure you are returned to your husband safely." Sybil nodded - she could see this would be safest both for her and for Tom - he could never risk taking her directly back to court. The thought of parting from him now, after all they had shared, tore her heart in two, and she felt tears behind her eyes as she contemplated her bleak future without him, and with no way she could see for them ever to be together again.

Tom could see her sadness and he gathered her into his arms again, kissing her forehead - "Sybil, my beloved, I promise you, I will find a way for us to be together, I will not rest until you and our baby are with me again, for good." Sybil believed him, but she also knew he was setting himself an almost impossible task. She decided to keep the faith - if anyone could do it, this man could! "Yes, my love - I know, oh I know"- she murmured, nestling closer into him and letting a secret tear fall before deciding not to let this interlude end in sadness...

She pushed him away from her playfully and rolled him onto his back. Biting her lip, she moved to sit on top of him and slid her hands slowly down his chest and stomach, finding his shaft which was already rising up underneath her. Starting to stroke him, she felt him become fully erect again and murmured - "Oh, my rebel lord, I see you enjoy that?" Smiling into his eyes, she clasped her thighs around him and lifted herself up, sliding onto him and beginning to move up and down.

Tom growled - "Oh, so my lady chooses to ride me?" Sybil quickly retorted, adopting an imperious tone they both enjoyed - "Well, how else can I tame a stallion, my lord, but ride him and show him who is the mistress here?" He grabbed her hip with one hand while his other hand slipped down between their bodies, finding her warm, wet core and began to tease it with his fingers. Seeing her eyes glaze over with desire, he couldn't help but joke - "I think we can both see who is the true master now!" Sybil could only nod - her feelings were starting to overwhelm her and as she rode him, her breasts rising and falling faster with her breath, she began to lose control completely.

Quickening her pace, she flung her head back and used her hands to brace herself against his body as she moved, making his penetration even deeper. Tom felt his own pleasure rising quickly but even as he raced headlong towards oblivion, he could not help watching in awe as this beautiful woman above him, the queen of his heart and of his dreams, abandoned herself completely to their lovemaking and beguiled him all over again in the process. His fingers shifted slightly to the spot he knew would send her over the edge and at his touch Sybil let out a scream, all signs of her royal life gone, leaving only pure instinct and animal sensation as she felt herself coming so intensely she thought she might faint.

Her long hair fell all about them as Tom felt her tighten around him over and over, which brought him to his own orgasm as well. Sybil crashed down on top of him, breathing fast, and his arms came around her as he pulled her close, caressing her skin which was soft as velvet, murmuring in her ear about how beautiful, how magnificent she was, how wonderful it felt to be inside her and how much he loved her...

* * *

Sybil jolted out of sleep and realised it was already nightfall. Quickly, she reached for quill and paper and scribbled a few lines to Tom -

"Beloved - Our child is growing well and we both long to be with you again with all our hearts. Unfortunately, my lord the King watches my every movement closely and I cannot come to meet you on the road to Wales, but be assured my heart, body and soul are yours completely, always. Until we meet again, my love – be watchful for your safety."

She folded the note and put it in the secret nook she and Gwen had agreed to use for these messages, then she clapped her hands to have the door opened, allowing her ladies back in to help her prepare for dinner...

The following week, a great royal banquet was held, and Edward was in a happy mood, making Sybil wonder if he had received some good news from the messenger she knew he had received earlier that day. She played the part of a dutiful wife for him again, selecting the best cuts of meat from her own plate and giving them to him, calling the wine steward to fill up his goblet, asking the troubadour to play his favourite tune. Somehow, she found herself holding her breath - she knew something was in the air...

Edward waited until most people had finished eating, and then he stood up to make an announcement. The room took a while to quieten down, which Sybil felt to be a symptom of the lack of respect for him amongst the court compared to his father, but eventually silence fell, and Edward started to speak –

"My lords, I bring good tidings – two days ago, at the castle of Abergavenny in the Welsh Marches, our loyal servant William de Braose cut a swathe through the rebellious Celtic brigands who have dared to question our rule of late. All the rebel leaders who attended a feast he arranged were set upon at the height of the celebrations and slaughtered in reprisal for their treachery. The rebellion is all but over!"

A cheer went up as Sybil felt herself slump in her seat, her ears ringing and blood rushing from her head. "No, it cannot be true! Tom cannot be..." – she felt a searing pain rip through her back and then she knew nothing more, falling unconscious to the floor.

"Look to the Queen!" The cry came up from the steward of her household, Sir Reginald Clare, who placed himself behind her throne at every public event in case she needed him. He himself picked her up and started to carry her towards her chamber – "Fetch the physician!" Gwen ran behind Sir Reginald, tears rolling down her face – "Oh Your Majesty, Your Majesty – can you hear me?" Faces were grim in the great hall as the Queen departed. Clearly the events of the evening had been too great a shock for her to bear in her current delicate condition, and the longed for Prince had decided to make his appearance early...

* * *

_A/N_ –

Historical note – the last bit of this chapter was based on a real historical event, the massacre at Abergavenny Castle, which actually happened in the 12th century - I used creative licence to move it to the time of Edward II. (It may also remind some readers of a recent Game of Thrones episode which caused quite some anguish among the fans, including me!) Next update will come soon to reveal what happens next, I promise!

"a chomthuigh" = my darling in Middle Irish, according to the Electronic Dictionary of the Irish Language. Middle Irish was spoken in Ireland from the 10th to the 12th centuries so more or less in period for Tom at this time, I think! If anyone knows differently please let me know.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's note_

Thank you as always to everyone who has read/reviewed/favourited/followed so far – I really love to hear from you! Please do keep on letting me know what you think. :)

* * *

Gwen hurried down the corridor bearing fresh water and clean cloths for the Queen's birthing chamber. Pushing through the double doors, she saw Sybil on the bed, straining and screaming with all her might as she entered the last phase of childbearing surrounded by her most intimate attendants.

"That's the way, your Majesty, the little Prince is almost here!" encouraged her physician, Master Fitzhugh. The midwife took the water and cloths from Gwen and bathed the Queen's face and neck, murmuring in her ear to help her to make one final effort and gently brushing her long, loose hair back from her face.

Sybil was wearing just a simple white shift, raised above her hips. Her knees were bent, feet flat on the bed she was lying on, to help the baby's journey from her womb into the world. She lifted herself off the mattress slightly and pushed as hard as she could, feeling her child emerge at last as an inarticulate cry escaped her lips – "Yes, that's it, your Majesty, we can see his head now!"

Gwen watched in wonder as the baby's shoulders started to emerge, then his body and legs – "It's a boy! It's a little Prince for England! Gareth, run and let the King know immediately," ordered Fitzhugh. Sybil's little Welsh page boy nodded, aware of the solemn nature of his task, and sped to the King's presence chamber. He stumbled on his arrival as he burst through the door and fell to the floor at the King's feet, completely out of breath.

"Well, what news, boy? Speak up at once!" Gareth gasped and, still prone, blurted out – "A boy, a healthy boy, your Majesty!" He got to his feet and made a low bow to the King, who was rejoicing to hear this news. He had fulfilled his primary duty to his realm – he had secured the succession! Turning to his retinue, he said joyfully – "Come, my lords – let us visit our new Prince!" Edward swept out of the room with his attendants, Gareth trotting along behind.

Gwen was at Fitzhugh's side as the baby was lifted up to have his cord cut and heard the little Prince let out his first lusty cry – "The Prince is healthy, your Majesty! Praise be to God and to Our Lady who have watched over you both this day." Exhaustion flooded through Sybil's body as she lay back among the pillows – so many emotions were rushing over her at that moment, along with the tremendous physical and mental stress of childbirth, and she just wanted to rest as the midwife made her more comfortable. The physician gave the baby to Gwen - it was her duty to take him away for a few minutes, clean him and wrap him for viewing by the King and Queen.

Gwen had been ready for this moment for some time - carefully, she took the little boy and carried him out of the room to a small antechamber just outside. "Is the coast clear?" a husky voice asked. "Yes, it's clear," replied Gwen, watching as one of the magnificent tapestries in the room was moved aside to reveal a roughly dressed man, one of the Queen's most trusted retainers and messengers, Sir Henry Beaumont. "It's a boy?" Gwen nodded and came towards him as he lifted his heavy cloak to show a bundle underneath it very like her own. "Shall we do this, then?" "Yes, all the arrangements are made, as you requested - give him to me."

Gwen reached out and handed over the newborn Prince, taking in his place the well-wrapped baby Sir Henry was holding. She lifted the blanket and saw a fair haired infant sleeping peacefully, and breathed a sigh of relief as she realised this child was a perfect match for the one she had just helped to deliver. "Where is the girl child?" "She is fine, still with the wet nurse and no-one is any the wiser. Once I heard it was a boy, I brought this one up straight away - I knew we would not have much time."

"Does the Queen know of this plan?" "No, not yet – I hadn't had the chance to let her know when she went into labour prematurely upon receiving some shocking news." Sir Henry reached into his pocket – "Ah yes, that reminds me, I have some news of our mutual friend." Gwen took a letter from his hand – it was unsealed, so she opened it:

"A chomthuigh - My horse threw a shoe on the way to the parley so fortunately I was delayed on my journey and was not present during the treacherous English attack at Abergavenny, although many of my friends are dead. Perhaps the news of my demise can work to our advantage – watch for more news from me soon. I send a thousand kisses to you and to our child."

Gwen closed her eyes – Tom Branson was alive! She knew she had to tell the Queen as soon as possible, and at any rate everyone would be waiting for the royal baby, so she could not linger. She made her farewells to Sir Henry and made her way back to the royal bedroom, while the knight took his precious burden back the way he had come, down the secret stairs and out of the palace ...

Gwen came back into the royal birthing chamber, finding it already full of the King's party – "Where is the child? Hurry, girl, and give him to me at once." Gwen dropped a deep curtsey, lowering her eyes as she reached up and handed the baby to Edward, who took him carefully. Looking into the face of the child in his arms, he felt a strange sensation of love, one that was not commonly felt by this selfish man who normally thought only of himself and his own pleasure.

He lifted the baby up to show Sybil, "See my lady, our Prince begs to offer his greetings to you!" Sybil smiled and nodded to her husband as he thanked her for her loyal service to her King and to her country. "If it pleases my lord, I would like to name the boy Edward." The King smiled – "An excellent choice! I will take him now to show him to the court, so we can start the celebration of the arrival of the heir to the throne."

The King handed the baby to Piers Mandeville, who was by his side as always, and left the room with his courtiers following behind, leaving the Queen with the physician, the midwife and a few maidservants, including Gwen, who realised that Sybil had not even had a chance to hold the child yet.

"Your Majesty? Can I bring you anything?" "No, thank you Gwen. I would really like to rest for a little while and recover my strength." Master Fitzhugh nodded – "Yes, that would be wise, Your Majesty. I will leave your maid to tend to your needs and return before long." "Thank you for today," smiled Sybil – she knew how close she and her child had come to danger, given how he had announced his arrival several hours before.

As Sybil closed her eyes and started to relax, Gwen watched as everyone else left her chamber, then she ran over to turn the key in the lock – what she was about to say could not be overheard by anyone. "Your Majesty? I am sorry to disturb you, but there is news I know you will want to hear. Tom Branson – he lives! I have just received word from him." Gwen handed over the note and Sybil read it quickly – "I give thanks to our Blessed Saviour for my beloved Tom's safety" – and crossed herself. "Your Majesty, there is more..."

* * *

Three weeks later, Sybil was recovering from her ordeal and eagerly awaiting her opportunity to take a secret excursion out of the palace – all depended on the King who was due to leave on an inspection of the Channel defences that afternoon, leaving her alone for a few days. Fortunately, his departure took place as planned, and later that evening, as the stars were coming out in the darkening sky, the Queen hurried down the same stairs Sir Henry had taken and made her way out of the palace, into the woods beyond.

"This way, your Majesty! We must hurry," said Gwen, walking a little ahead of Sybil with a burning torch to guide her way. After about twenty minutes, they came into a forest clearing, in which a woodburner's cottage sat. A fire was burning inside, casting a welcoming light from the open door, and Sybil walked straight in.

"Your Majesty? Welcome to our home." A stout woman with a kind face made her obeisances to Sybil and glanced towards a little cradle by the fire. Sybil felt overwhelmed by her feelings at that moment – for the first time, she was going to meet her child, the child conceived in love with Tom and who had been hidden from her from the moment of his birth, until now. She stepped forward and leaned over the sleeping baby, picking him up and sitting down in a high backed chair which had been made ready for her.

Sybil reverently traced a finger along her son's rosy cheek, amazed at the satiny softness of his skin. She and her hostess spoke for a few moments about his health and care, and Sybil felt reassured that every possible measure was being taken to ensure her child was well and happy. He started to stir in her arms, and she looked up at Gwen – could she, would it be possible...? Gwen nodded encouragingly and came over to help Sybil unfasten her robe, letting it fall away from her shoulders and revealing her breasts in the dim light of the fire. Sybil took the baby in her arms and felt his tiny mouth latch onto her nipple and start to suck. Somehow, the little boy seemed to know that she was his mother and he was perfectly happy and comfortable in her arms, opening his blue eyes wide and looking at her for the first time...

From outside the small hut, Tom watched Sybil in awe as she sang a little song and stroked their son's fair head, soothing him as he fed. Gwen had been able to send him word of the hoped-for visit to the cottage that evening, and he had been waiting in the woods for hours before making his way towards that place where his heart lay forever – in the high backed chair by the fire. The incredible beauty of this woman he loved so much with their child at her breast stayed in his mind as his personal vision of heaven for the rest of his life.

He had originally thought it would be too risky to let Sybil know he was there, but somehow she knew anyway – "Hello? Who is it?" Tom ducked his head to fit through the low doorway and came into the room, making his way towards them. His eyes met hers and she gasped – "Tom! My love, is it really you?" Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she reached up to him, pulling his face down to hers for a kiss full of love and longing. Then, Tom bent down beside Sybil and put his arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss into her hair as she kept feeding their son and feeling that this moment with the beloved mother and child was the most blessed he had ever experienced. He vowed that he would redouble his efforts to come up with a way for them all to be together for good, no matter what the cost...

* * *

_A/N_ -

I had a few sources of inspiration for the baby switching in this chapter. First, the Yankee Countess' wonderful S/T fic "A Tale of Two Twins", where twins are separated at birth (read it if you haven't already!). Secondly, a discussion with ehbiencherie on Tumblr about the Mark Twain novel _The Prince and the Pauper_ was another source of ideas. Finally, the story about the birth of the baby who became known as the Old Pretender, the son of King James II of England - he was rumoured to be a changeling, smuggled into the Queen's bedchamber in a warming pan to replace the real child who had been born dead, which got me thinking of ways to get a living royal baby out.

"a chomthuigh" = my darling in Middle Irish.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's note_

Thank you as always to everyone who has read/reviewed/favourited/followed so far – I really love to hear from you! Please do keep on letting me know what you think, it gives me such inspiration. :)

My (slightly late) contribution to the Rock the Bransons AU at the Beach challenge on Tumblr!

* * *

**A month later**

The long royal baggage train wound its way through the rough terrain of North Wales. Heavily guarded by the king's own troops – this mountainous country was well known for brigands – King Edward was travelling with the court towards a location of special significance for him – Caernarvon Castle. It was there he had been born and there that his father, marking his conquest of that rebellious territory and the defeat of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, had presented him as the first English Prince of Wales while still a small baby. Edward had decided to do the same thing for his son. It was to be combined with the boy's christening - such a splendid occasion had not been seen for many years, but to Edward nothing was too good for his beloved heir.

Sybil was excited as she made the long journey with the rest of the royal party. A few days before, as they left Ludlow, she had received word via Gwen that Tom Branson would try to find a way for them to meet in North Wales. He guessed, she hoped rightly, that the ceremonies involving the young boy Edward thought to be his son would take up a lot of the King's time, which might mean he relaxed his vigilance regarding the whereabouts of the Queen, giving them a possible chance to meet.

The word came back down the line – "Your Majesty, the castle is in sight – we have arrived!" Sybil breathed a sigh of relief as Gwen made her ready to descend from the litter – although she was now fully recovered from the difficult birth of her son, and she had been "churched" a couple of weeks before which meant she could come back fully into society, she didn't deny she was very tired after the long days of travel. She stepped down into the courtyard of the castle, taking the arm of her husband who had come to accompany her, and made her way slowly to the royal apartments.

"My lady – I trust your journey has not been too tiring?"

"Thank you, my lord – it went as well as could be expected but I think I will need to rest for a while before dinner. What are the plans for the ceremony?"

"It will be held tomorrow – all the arrangements are made. Your role will be a small one – the Bishop will tell you what to do when you arrive on the platform."

"That will suit me, my lord – this day is all about our son and heir – I am happy to be in the background."

He smiled and nodded at her – since she had given birth he had been remarkably gracious to her, for which she was grateful. Gwen led the way to her chamber, and shut the door behind them.

"Your Majesty – word has come from our mutual friend – I was handed this packet on the road by a trusted messenger."

"Oh God – word from Tom?" She reached for the letter and tore it open eagerly –

"A chomthuigh,

At last I have found a way for us to meet in secret. There is a fisherman's hut on a beach, Porth Dafarch, which lies deserted apart from the occasional smuggler. If you can get there tomorrow evening, leave a light in the window for me, and I can come in by boat from the Irish Sea.

I dream every night of being with you. I long to feel you in my arms again, to see your beautiful face, to kiss your sweet lips. Farewell until then."

Sybil handed the letter without speaking back to Gwen, watching as she put it straight onto the fire – she knew it would be too dangerous for her to keep it.

"Gwen, do you know where Porth Dafarch is? I will need your help to make arrangements for me to go there tomorrow evening."

"Yes, your Majesty. It is not far from here – a lonely cove, off the beaten path – an hour's ride from the Castle. Do you think you can travel so far?"

"Gwen, I must – I have to see Tom again, no matter how difficult it might be. The timing is good – the ceremony for baby Edward will be over by then, and once I put in an appearance at the banquet afterwards everyone will understand if I retire early."

"Sir Henry Beaumont can travel with you. The ancestral lands of his mother are in Snowdonia and he knows this part of Wales well - I am sure he will know the safest paths to take. I will stay here and deflect any enquiries that are made about you while you are away."

Sybil took Gwen's hand and squeezed it – her gratitude needed no further expression. Gwen hurried away to find Sir Henry and acquaint him with what the Queen needed from him, while Sybil took the chance to lie down and sleep – she had a long couple of days ahead of her...

* * *

"The grey sea and the long black land;  
And the yellow half-moon large and low;  
And the startled little waves that leap  
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,  
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,  
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.  
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;  
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;  
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch  
And blue spurt of a lighted match,  
And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,  
Than the two hearts beating each to each!"

- "Meeting at Night", Robert Browning

* * *

"Your Majesty – are you feeling well? It has been a difficult ride to get to this lonely place."

"Thank you, Sir Henry – yes, I am quite well. Can you wait outside for me? I will let you know when I am ready to leave."

The taciturn knight nodded – he knew full well what was planned to happen at this deserted hut, and as far as he was concerned it was not for him to judge – he served the Queen, whatever she needed him to do.

Sybil paced up and down nervously, looking down towards the lonely shoreline which was lit only by the moon as she set a candle in the window. _What if Tom couldn't make it – what if he were captured, what if there should be a storm and his boat came to grief?..._ A thousand worries ran through her head as she waited for him, the exhaustion of the long day of ceremony forgotten.

Tom, out beyond the headlands that guarded the entrance to the little cove, saw the light and felt his heart turn over – _She is there!_ "Quickly now, and quietly – into the beach." The boat moved swiftly and silently towards the sand, lit up only by the light of the moon, and Tom in his eagerness leapt out into the shallows to pull the boat ashore. He left his trusted man to make the boat safe against the rising tide, and ran towards the light as if it were the light of the world and his only chance of salvation.

Sybil thought she saw a flash of white in the wavering beam of the candle – _Could it be him? Oh God, please, have mercy, let him come to me, I have waited so long_. Then, there could be no mistake – Tom ran straight towards the hut, following the light. He saw her in the window and stumbled, almost falling, as his love for her flooded through him. He came to the door – Sybil was there, waiting for him.

"Tom, oh Tom, my love!" She threw herself into his arms before he even got in the door, planting passionate kisses all over his face as he picked her up, carrying her into the hut and returning her kisses with interest.

"Sybil, beloved, at last – I have dreamed of this moment so many times." He gently laid her down on a bundle of blankets on the floor near the back wall and dropped down beside her, pulling her into his arms.

They knew they had the whole long night ahead of them but after so many months apart, neither of them could spare time for lengthy caresses. Sybil lifted up her skirt and pulled Tom down on top of her, as he fumbled to unfasten his britches – "Now, Tom, now – oh please!"

His shaft was aching for release as he slid it home inside her as if he belonged there by right. He closed his eyes, remembering the other times they had been together, and started to move. Remembering she had given birth to their child not long ago, he stopped – "Is this all right?"

By way of answer, Sybil pulled Tom down to her, wrapping her arms and legs around him to get as close to him as she could. "Darling, yes, it is more than all right – it is what I long for, more than anything..."

His kisses stopped both their mouths as he began to move faster, feeling her excitement build as she lay beneath him. He lifted himself up on one elbow, staring down at her lovely face as he moved his other hand down between them to find her warm, wet core. He started to stroke it as he thrust into her, hearing her sigh deeply in response to his touch, her eyes locking on his in the golden moonlight streaming through the window, her long hair falling from its braid as they moved as one.

Taking his cue from her, he pushed into her again and again, deeper each time, stroking her in rhythm with his thrusts. He watched her bite her lip and screw up her fists in the blankets beneath them, and hearing her breath becoming ragged he knew she was not far from release. He kept moving and in a few more moments he felt her body exploding around him.

The intense sensations from being inside her at this moment of ecstasy brought him to orgasm as well, and the months of dreaming about making love to her faded back into obscurity as the triumphant reality of their reunion overran his body and mind. He slumped down onto her, blindly seeking her lips with his... _Next time, I want to take all the time in the world with her – I want to hear her screaming my name, begging me for release as she comes again and again – I can never, never have enough of her..._

* * *

"Round the cape of a sudden came the sea,  
And the sun looked over the mountain's rim:  
And straight was a path of gold for him,  
And the need of a world of men for me."

- "Parting at Morning", Robert Browning

* * *

Shortly before dawn, she awoke naked in his arms. After their first, frantic coupling, they had taken the time to remove their clothes and settled in for a long night in each others' embrace, kissing, caressing, talking about their lives and their dreams of being together with their child, now named Tom after his father. They had made love so many times she felt a little sore, but in a way she relished.

She leaned up and looked at his beloved face – he had a new scar, just above his left eyebrow, and she touched it with soft fingers, brushing back his fringe as she wondered what had happened to cause it. Until now, his life as a soldier for Ireland's freedom was something he had tried to keep apart from their time together, not wanting anything to intrude on their love, but she resolved that one day soon she would learn more about his campaign and try to help him achieve his goals if she could. She loved him so much, all she wanted was for him to find happiness, whatever that meant for him.

He stirred as she moved closer, seeking his lips in a kiss which started out gentle but which quickly stirred up the passion between them which they had been engulfed by last night so many times already, but which seemed inexhaustible. His hands ran all over her as he kissed her, wanting to feel every inch of her beautiful body and carry its memory back out to the campaign that was taking such a toll on him and his men. He rolled her over onto her back and moved down to kiss her neck, lingering as he nipped at a pulse point that he knew would send her reeling. His lips moved down to her breasts, hearing her whisper his name as he kissed the warm, smooth skin he found there, taking her nipples into his mouth one by one and stirring them both to life with his tongue.

He headed further down her body, kissing one hipbone and then the other before moving down across her stomach with a trail of feather light kisses, loving the gentle curve that had held their son. He slid between her thighs and put his mouth on her, sliding his tongue up to that tender, sensitive spot she had only discovered since she met him and starting to tease it. Her hands tangled themselves in her hair as he moved, circling and rubbing her, sliding first one finger then another inside her as she let out a moan, wanting to take his time with her and hold her as long as he could at the very edge of oblivion, so that when she came it would be all the more intense.

"Tom, oh please, please..." she begged, and he knew what she wanted – he held her just another moment on the knife edge and then he released her, hearing her scream his name, just as he had dreamed she would. He stayed between her legs for a few more minutes, kissing her thighs and stomach as she came back to herself, before slowly moving up to take her in his arms. She had tears in her eyes as she looked at him –

"My beloved, I must go, and if you are caught here you would suffer a traitor's death. The King will be expecting me. Oh my darling, when can we see each other again, when will we be together?"

His arms came more tightly around her, dropping a kiss on top of her head. "My love, I promise – from here I ride to meet with Robert the Bruce to renew our rebellion against your husband's reign. Together we will work out a plan so that we can be united as a family, with our child, I swear to you. We must be patient a little longer."

She wanted to stay in his arms forever and lingered for just a few more minutes before she heard Sir Henry's knock on the door – "Your Majesty, we must away, dawn is breaking and the sun is shining on the water ..." She shuddered at his words, feeling a moment of dread before she reluctantly left Tom's arms and reached for her gown - only God knew when and where they would meet again...

* * *

_A/N -_

I took a bit of creative license in this chapter. Although in modern times the investiture of the Prince of Wales at Caernavon Castle has become traditional, this was not the case in the time of Edward II, who was the first English heir to the throne given that title when his father, Edward I, completed his conquest of Wales. Edward II was born at Caernavon Castle and legend has it he was presented to the Welsh people as their prince there while still a newborn baby, but his title was not formalised until 1301 by the Parliament of Lincoln, quite a long time after he was born in 1284, and the circumstances of his son's accession to the title were very different to what I've described here. I also moved the beach where Sybil and Tom met a bit closer to Caernavon, to make it easier for them to meet there – I fell in love with a picture I saw of it (which I have included on Tumblr) and just had to have them meet at this beautiful, romantic place and make up for lost time. ;)

Thank you, angiemagz, for making me the beautiful new manip of Queen Sybil that I have used for the coverart of this story on Tumblr and here - you keep giving me inspiration with your wonderful images! Also sending a shoutout to foojules, a fellow S/T author whose stories I really recommend, who has kindly been helping me brainstorm the next stages of this story - thanks so much!

Finally, a tip of the hat to Robert Browning. As you can see, I quoted two of his lovely poems in this chapter upon which I had always wanted to base an S/T story - this seemed like the perfect chance to use them.

"a chomthuigh" = my darling in Middle Irish, according to the Electronic Dictionary of the Irish Language.


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